- I finally saw Bohemian Rhapsody on Sunday afternoon. I’m still singing in my head.
- Some people should not be allowed to drive. Yep, dude in the black Beemer tailgating my new car, I’m talking to you. #%?!*#%
- I’m already tired of wrapping gifts, and I’m not even halfway done.
- How can two seemingly identical bras, in the same size, from the same shop, fit so differently? #BuyersRemorse #RightBoobSquashed #BreathingNotOptional
- Great football this past weekend. #HowAboutThemCowboys
- My Apple Watch is something of a bully. I’ll get up when I damned well please! Okay, now is good.
- I like bullet points.
- Sometimes so-called “relaxation” music is anything but. Listen, if you want me to relax, don’t put any sudden changes in the track.
- Bradley Cooper is hot.
- If you’re still reading, you’ll know I really had nothing much to say today. Thanks for hanging in there.
- I always wanted a tumbleweed Christmas tree.
- There aren’t any tumbleweeds in Florida, as far as I know.
- Jenna Bush Hagar seems like such a sweet young woman. #TodayShow
- When I die, will someone take my ashes on a cross country train ride?
- I’m not on the shortlist for Time magazine’s Person of the Year. Again.
- Did I mention how much I loved Bohemian Rhapsody? And bullet points?
Last night was both a hit and a miss in the sleep department. I initially fell asleep quickly, but awakened approximately an hour later, eyes wide open, thoughts swirling like frantic snowflakes in a blizzard. I read a while until those flakes blanketed the ground of my mind and I was able to doze off again. I repeated the pattern to some extent all night long. Some sleep periods were longer, others shorter. I did dream, though, which is always a good sign.
In the one dream I can recall I had been working in some distant city and was trying to return home to Baltimore, Maryland, via train. I was so sleepy in the train station that I couldn’t stand in the ticket line without dozing off. When I finally managed to speak to a ticket agent I couldn’t remember my address in Baltimore, so she sent me to the back of the line until I could.
Now, I’ve been to Baltimore. I once worked for a company that was based there, and my initial two weeks with the company were spent in the suburb of Towson. But I live in Florida. I’m not sure why my brain thought I needed to go home to Baltimore.
I did finally get on the train in my dream, where I sat next to a man who’d been a social worker before retiring to paint landscapes. I told him I’d come “this close” to being a social worker–a blatant lie–but that I’d chosen a career as a teacher instead. I also told him I could paint. Another lie.
“It will all be clear when we get to Baltimore,” I told him solemnly, before waking up.
Since I have no plans to visit Baltimore any time soon, I suppose things will stay muddy. As usual.
I’m sitting in my car watching a train roll through Quincy, FL. Every car has a bit of art painted across the side, some beautiful, some provocative, some profane. It occurred to me that these cars have their own stories and we just get a small glimpse as they chug on by us.
Union Pacific rail cars
Taking their sweet time
Gang signs in
Fuchsia block letters
Join or Die!
Submit and Live!
Skull with Crossbones
Oversized funky feet,
Hands, and eyes
Adorn these cars.
Secretly rich lives lived
In train yard towns like
Kansas City, Missouri, and
North Platte, Nebraska.
Squee, squee, squee!
Move on now,
I don’t have all day,
Just because you’re all
Places to go
Doesn’t mean I can sit
Idly by just to
Watch this show.